The Greatest of These is Love
by Ariel D
Summary: SANDSIBS fic. The greatest gift someone can give is dying for a loved one. But could Gaara cope without Kankuro, or could Kankuro cope without Gaara? Set post Shippuuden ep. 32. Sequel to “Requiem for Atlas.”
1. Preparations for War

**The Greatest of These is Love**

By Ariel D

_Description: SANDSIBS fic. The greatest gift someone can give is dying for a loved one. But could Gaara cope without Kankuro, or could Kankuro cope without Gaara? Set post Shippuuden ep. 32. Hurt/comfort. Sequel to "Requiem for Atlas."_

_Disclaimer: Gaara, Kankuro, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Not YAOI. This is the sequel to "Requiem for Atlas," but you don't have to read the story to read this one because I only make a few references to it here. It would probably help, though. I have officially named this the "Brothers" series, and it now includes "The Blood of Brothers," "Requiem for Atlas," and of course this story._

_Translations (jic): "nii-san" means "older brother," "ototo" means "younger brother," and a yukata is a casual, cotton, summer kimono._

* * *

**Chapter One: Preparations for War**

Gaara frowned at the councilmen around him. They looked solemn, sour, ready to declare doom and destruction. Wrapped in their flowing robes and turbans, only their grim faces uncovered, they struck Gaara as unusually pessimistic.

"And you've verified this?" Baki asked, breaking the silence.

All eyes focused on Taro, the new head of security. As one of the oldest council members, he enjoyed the respect of everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Gaara, to whom Taro was inevitably rude and disrespectful.

"I have," Taro answered. "For several months, the Aida Clan looked to be engaging in nothing more than training exercises mixed with their normal Bedouin-like behavior. Their caravans usually swing close to our northern border once every two years or so. But, no, this time it's certain. They are preparing an attack."

Gaara glanced to Baki, needing some help understanding the significance of this. Taro's initial reports had not been alarming enough to cause Gaara to research the Aida.

Baki caught his gaze. "In their previous invasion twenty years ago, the Aida decimated the entire northern quarter of our village before we could drive them out. We lost 50 shinobi that day and nearly 120 civilians. Sandaime Kazekage had difficulty defeating them, and —"

"And," Taro interrupted, "it is a well-known fact Sandaime Kazekage-sama was and remains our strongest Kazekage."

_Translation: 'You are weak,'_ Gaara thought, keeping his face as impassive as always, _'and even without Shukaku, I still consider you untrustworthy and likely to get us all killed.'_

The entire room fell into an uncomfortable, stiff silence.

"What are their numbers?" Gaara asked, not acknowledging the implied insult.

Taro smirked faintly but answered. "The clan itself numbers 50,000."

Gaara frowned. Suna itself had a population about the same size.

"The catch is," Taro continued, "that they have no civilians. All boys and girls are trained to be shinobi, and those that prove too weak are banished. In fact, any babies born with birth defects are suffocated in the sand when they are born."

"Suffocated?" Gaara repeated, and he felt his stomach turn. For a moment, he saw himself as a baby, sacrificed as a host for Shukaku.

Taro nodded, and Gaara could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he enjoyed his small show of discomfort.

"Information gathering reports also suggest that all children are expected to reach genin by age ten," Baki added. "Which means that of their 50,000 —"

"Their forces outnumber ours," Gaara summarized bluntly. He looked at Taro. "And what kind of timetable are we looking at?"

"Right now they're offering prayers to their ancestors and undergoing purification rites," Taro replied. "It should take them another week to be ready. They are very methodical." He paused, his lip curling. "Also, any warriors who are too feeble or injured to fight — or, at the very least, to defend the young children during the battle — are expected to commit ritual _seppuku_, or _hara-kiri_, in order to maintain the honor of the clan."

A burst of mumbling filled the room at this announcement.

"What does that have to do with the timing of their preparations?" Gaara asked.

"They have several funerals to perform," Taro replied, "in which they drink the blood of the dead warrior and eat his or her flesh in order to 'ingest the strength and soul' of their ancestors."

Immediately, Gaara understood their danger. "Then the Aida Clan lives and breathes the art of war, placing all sense of personal and clan worth on glory in battle. They are not shinobi, working behind the scenes to gather information, steal artifacts, or assassinate key leaders; they are a crusading army fighting wars of conquest and power."

Taro blinked, as though he believed Gaara was incapable of making such an assessment. "In short, I suppose."

Gaara nodded. "Triple the reinforcements at the north border and activate alert system 3-C," he ordered Taro. "I also want your spies to gather any information that could help us disrupt their preparations, scramble their communication, or allow us to ambush them."

Gaara then turned to Baki. "Gather all team leaders — chuunin through ANBU — tomorrow morning and explain the situation. Have them meet with their teams no later than noon. We are instituting Defense Konoha 1; have the civilians start the practice drills tomorrow afternoon. I want drills run every day at randomly selected times, including during the night."

"Yes, sir," Baki replied.

Gaara looked at each councilman in turn. "Our primary goal is to keep the Aida from breeching our border, but if it should come to an attack on the village, I expect us to react with maximum efficiency. I expect not a single civilian casualty. Am I understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" filled the room from the wide-eyed men. Gaara knew they weren't used to him being so vocal or taking such obvious control. However, Gaara had been tortured, killed, returned to life, and trained back into shape. At this point, if he had something to say, he was going to say it — and he expected his orders to be followed.

"Very well," Gaara said, standing. "This meeting is adjourned."

* * *

As he left the council chamber, Gaara set aside the disturbing news of the possible invasion and made his way across the mansion-compound to the private living quarters. Temari was awaiting him in the kitchen. It was Kankuro's birthday, and they had decided to throw him a small surprise party involving only themselves and Baki.

When Gaara entered the kitchen, he found Temari covered in flour and struggling to make sushi. She glared at him.

"You better be right," she said. "Because if you're not, I'm going to kill you."

He knew what she meant. "He'll appreciate it. I'm not sure how much he'll show it, but he'll be . . . very touched."

"He never acts like he cares that it's his birthday," she muttered, but she really wasn't arguing. "He always says not to fix him anything, that celebrating birthdays is just an imported foreign practice."

"He never acts like it's a big deal on our birthdays, either," Gaara pointed out anyway. "And yet he still manages to make sure we have nice ones with our favorite foods."

"He's such a punk," Temari sighed, but she was smiling. She pointed to the cake cooling on the counter. "Cake's ready; it just needs the icing. The seki-han and rice are ready to go, and sushi is almost ready." She reached up and wiped sweat from her forehead. "The tempura is frying in the deep cooker. That just leaves the hamburgers."

Gaara hid a small smile at her efforts. Temari always struggled when she cooked; in fact, out of the three siblings, only Kankuro could cook well. He could cook most anything with a recipe, although he generally refused to fix anything fancy unless it was Gaara's or Temari's birthday, in which case he could bake wonderful cakes. Gaara himself failed miserably as a cook; the only things he could successfully fix were tea, rice, and ramen. Still, he'd watched Kankuro cook hamburgers countless times since that was his older brother's favorite food.

"All right," he said, joining Temari. "I'll fix the hamburgers and do my best not to burn them. I'll also _try_to help you ice the cake."

Temari chuckled. "Between the two of us, I'm sure it'll be the ugliest cake ever."

Gaara cooked the hamburgers while Temari finished the sushi, then they loaded up the serving plates. After fighting the icing onto the cake, they set the table. Baki arrived in time to help carry out all the serving plates, and then all was ready.

"When should Kankuro arrive?" Baki asked, putting his present in the kitchen with Gaara's and Temari's.

"Any minute now." Temari leaned against the dining room wall. "He said he was going out to train, but he'd be back by supper."

"Train?" Gaara said, feeling a touch uneasy. "Again?" Every time Kankuro wasn't on a mission, he seemed to be training. _And after chastising me for over-exerting myself, too,_he thought, vaguely put out.

Baki frowned. "He's been pushing himself terribly hard as of late."

"Yeah. I'm not sure what's gotten into him," Temari said. "He —"

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted her, and from the foyer, they heard Kankuro's call.

"I'm home!"

The three conspirators traded looks, and Temari grinned. They surrounded the table.

"We're in here!" Temari yelled back.

Gaara heard the distinct clunk of wooden geta hitting the floor, followed by the thunk of a bag. A moment later, Kankuro padded into the room, dressed in a simple navy yukata and obi. His face was clean of face paint, and his spiky hair was damp. Gaara surmised he'd stopped by the public baths on the way home.

Kankuro halted in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock. "What —?"

"Happy birthday!" the conspirators yelled.

Kankuro smiled sheepishly, running one hand through his wet hair. "Hey, guys, you didn't have to . . ."

Gaara had learned his brother well enough to not buy it for a minute. Kankuro was pleased. "Sure we did." He gestured to the food-laden table. "Have a seat. We have your favorite." He grimaced slightly, hoping the hamburgers had come out all right.

"Thanks. Smells good." Kankuro sat on a floor pillow and tucked his legs under the kotatsu table, and Gaara caught a little smile hovering on his lips.

Temari sat on one side of him and thumped him in the shoulder playfully, and Gaara sat on the other. Baki took the opposite seat, and then the little family settled in for their dinner. Gaara noted with unease that the hamburgers were a bit dry, and the tempura was too greasy. The sushi also tended to fall apart when picked up, and the rice had cooled off too much. Despite it all, however, Kankuro expressed appreciation and even ate seconds. Gaara watched the smile hovering on his brother's lips and felt satisfied. His _nii-san _had gone through a lot on his behalf in the last several months, and Gaara wanted to repay him in some small way. Still, it wasn't lost on him that Kankuro also seemed exhausted, and he made up his mind to ask him about his training.

Temari stood when they'd finished eating. "There's more," she told Kankuro. She went into the kitchen and re-emerged with a lop-sided, three-layered cake with smeared white and red icing. Eighteen candles randomly protruded from the surface.

Gaara nearly groaned; they had done a really poor job decorating the cake.

Kankuro put a hand over his mouth and snickered.

"Shut up." Temari set the cake in front of him. "I can't help it if Gaara and I can't cook as well as you can."

Kankuro just smiled at her. "Taste is all that really matters anyway. And thanks."

Temari squeezed his shoulder and grinned at him. "No problem. Now blow out your candles."

Kankuro looked back at the cake, which leaned precariously to the side, and chuckled. "I guess I better before it falls over and the candles catch the table on fire."

Temari popped him on the head, albeit lightly, and he laughed and then blew out the candles. Baki helped cut the mutilated cake and hand out pieces, and Gaara thanked him as he accepted his piece. However, he could tell by the way that Kankuro's face grew still after taking a bite of the cake that something was wrong.

"Nice job," Kankuro told Temari, who refused to have a piece because she didn't like sweets.

Gaara took a bite, then carefully swallowed. The red icing had an unpleasant fake cinnamon taste that burnt his tongue. "Yes," he lied, wondering if he could plead fullness halfway through. "Well done."

"Thank you," Temari said, looking relieved.

Baki served himself last and took a bite. Gaara watched his expression closely, but he didn't so much as blink. "Indeed, Temari, your cooking has improved drastically since you were a child."

Gaara took note of this diplomatic turn of phrase and careful application of a truth to hide a truth and tucked it away for future use on council members.

Temari grinned with pleasure. Gaara simply held his breath while he chewed and took a sip of green tea between each bite.

However, Kankuro was kind enough to accept a second piece, and in that moment, Gaara understood that his brother had always quietly stood in the background, doing small and otherwise invisible things to support his siblings. Gaara set down his fork, struck with a pang at the sudden knowledge that until recently, he'd probably overlooked a million tiny things Kankuro had done to help him.

"We have presents, too," Temari said, jumping up and running into the kitchen a second time.

"You didn't have to do that," Kankuro called after her.

"We'll spoil you if we want," Gaara said quietly, and his brother turned to him with a small smile.

Temari returned with three packages and handed them to Kankuro. "Here you go."

Kankuro set them on the table and looked almost dumbfounded. "Really, you guys . . ." Still, he was grinning. He picked up Baki's present first and opened it to find a new tool kit for working on his puppets.

"Thank you." Kankuro smiled at Baki. "I wore out my tools fixing Karasu, Kuroari, and Sanshouo."

Baki nodded. "I figured you had."

"Open mine now," Temari said.

Kankuro opened her gift and pulled out a black yukata imprinted with a conservative golden dragon pattern and a matching obi. "Wow, Temari, this is a really nice one."

Temari grinned. "I know, I know. Guys don't usually flip out over clothes, but all your yukata are getting worn out."

"No, really. It's nice."

Gaara watched Kankuro smile and realized that they could have given him a dead dog, and as long as they were trying hard and had the right intentions, he'd still be touched. He wanted to reach out and squeeze his older brother's arm, to tell him how special he was, but of course, he maintained his composure.

Temari pushed Gaara's present toward Kankuro. "Okay, then. Open Gaara's."

Gaara held his breath. He had no idea how to select gifts for people, so he'd done the only thing he could think of.

Kankuro stared at the box, which was a full three feet long, wide, and deep. "What in the world?"

Temari and Baki looked just as curious.

Kankuro ripped off the bow and paper and pulled off the top. "Gaara!" He sounded stunned. He set the top down gently, as though awed, then reached into the box and pulled out a life-sized bobcat puppet. "Where . . . how . . .?"

Gaara exhaled the breath he was holding. "I sneaked off behind your back and visited Murata. You've said several times how good she is at creating puppets, so I had one made for you." He looked down. "I did accidentally destroy the wolf puppet you were making, after all."

"You didn't have to do that," Kankuro said quietly. "I've already carved a new wolf. It's still in the rough, but . . ." He turned the bobcat over, opening its mouth and flexing its legs.

Gaara watched his brother test the puppet, checking all the spots for hidden weapons, and realized that Kankuro was deeply impressed.

"It's remarkable," Kankuro said. He set the puppet down and smiled at all of them. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome." Temari hugged him from the side.

Baki stood, and they all followed suit and stood as well. "Yes, you're welcome. It's odd to think that before too long, we'll have to throw you a coming-of-age party."

"And you never thought I'd last that long." Kankuro grinned, clearly teasing.

"Of course you will." Baki reached out and shook his hand. "Take the rest of the day off and enjoy your birthday, okay?" He turned and bowed to Temari. "Thank you for supper."

She waved her hand through the air. "No problem. Thanks for joining us."

Baki nodded and left.

Now that he was standing, Kankuro returned Temari's hug. "You punk," he muttered with obvious affection. "Taking me off guard like that."

Temari hugged him back. "Ha! You're the punk."

Gaara watched them and realized suddenly that the reason his siblings had been able to care for him, to reach out to him, was because they had first learned to love one another. He wasn't sure how they figured it out, given the cruelty of their father, but perhaps the man's cold-heartedness had been the whole point. Perhaps as small children, they'd stuck up for each other, treated each other's wounds, and cried to each other in the night because no one else had cared. And Gaara had been isolated from them, kept separate and alone, until such a time he'd been too filled with hate to accept their care. Then, of course, they'd been filled with fear as well.

Struck with a wave of inexplicable sadness, Gaara turned his stare upon the floor.

"What's that look?"

Gaara glanced back up as Kankuro walked over to him and embraced him in a tight hug. "Hey, you ought to be happy. You figured out a birthday present all on your own, and you did a great job."

Temari smirked. "Yeah, you made the rest of us look bad."

"I didn't mean to." Gaara pulled away and glanced at Temari with concern.

"I'm only kidding." Temari laughed and waved them off. "You two go play with the puppet." She smiled at Kankuro. "I'll handle the dishes tonight since it's your birthday."

Kankuro grinned and picked up the puppet. "You don't have to tell me twice." He headed toward the back door, and after a quick look at Temari to ensure she really was okay with cleaning the dishes, Gaara followed him out into the courtyard.

Kankuro jogged out to the middle of the grounds. The moonlight illuminated what passed as a garden in Suna: an expanse of stone pathways that sparkled in the light and sand which was raked in swirling patterns and offset with colored rocks. Three stone benches, a freeform sculpture, and various tropical plants broke the scenery, accompanied by a small fountain.

Kankuro stopped near the fountain, and with the simple flick of his fingers attached chakra strings to the bobcat. Gaara watched as he moved his fingers with unconscious grace, walking the puppet around him and then triggering attacks that would soon be accompanied by countless needles, kunai, and various other poisoned blades.

Gaara stirred after a moment. "Murata said that if you complete the set — the wolf, a tiger, a jackal, and the bobcat — you can paint a four part seal on their backs and use them to circle an opponent and trap them."

"I was thinking about it," Kankuro said, looking up from the puppet. "When I can control seven puppets at once, it'd make an awesome collection."

"Is that why you're training?" Gaara asked, suddenly worried again. Kankuro still looked exhausted despite his enthusiasm. Faint dark circles discolored his eyes — circles Gaara understood too well.

Kankuro paused. "Yeah. I've gotten up to four now." He had the puppet jump up onto the fountain's edge and walk the rim.

Gaara walked closer. "Why the sudden burst in training? You've always been ahead of the learning curve in the puppet corps, anyway."

Kankuro paused and let the puppet slump. "I know, but I . . ." He shrugged and reinstated his chakra strings, causing the bobcat to hop to the ground and slash its claws.

"What is it?" Gaara asked. He could tell something was wrong, but he had no idea what.

Kankuro appeared nonchalant. "Well, after helping you train and regain your strength, I decided I should shore up my strength as well."

Gaara let his gaze fall again. The sparkling stones at his feet glittered white, red, and blue in the moonlight. "All I did was regain my previous abilities. It's not like I've added to my skills yet. Why would that inspire you to get stronger?" He paused, uncomfortable, and looked up. "Besides, you trained with me to the point of exhaustion. Shouldn't you give yourself a break first?"

"Nah." Kankuro smiled at him, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine, really." He turned back to the puppet, and his smile faded quickly. "Besides, I've been hearing all the rumors about the impending invasion by the Aida Clan. I need to get stronger in case your life is ever endangered again like — like it was by Akatsuki."

For a moment, Gaara couldn't breathe. "Is that what this is about? My abduction? _Nii-san_. . . your opponent was Akasuna no Sasori. He originally crafted your puppets, so he knew all your attacks, and Sakura said he'd modified himself to control a hundred puppets at once. You weren't exactly in a fair fight."

Kankuro set the puppet down and released the chakra strings. "You died." He paused, a look of anguish washing over his face and wrinkling his brow. "And I couldn't do anything to help you. I had to rely completely on other people to save you."

Gaara blinked, shocked by this admission and the pain he heard in his brother's voice. "_Nii-san_. . ."

"I won't let it happen again." Kankuro frowned at the bobcat. "Should there be a next time, I'll prove useful to you. I'll save you myself."

Gaara reached one hand toward him but then let it fall, unsure how to comfort Kankuro the way he always managed to comfort him. "Don't talk that way. You've stood beside me for years now, supporting me in my quest to become Kazekage, listening to my dreams, helping me through my initial efforts to sleep, and training with me."

Kankuro shook his head. "None of those things will mean much if I stand by and let you get killed — again."

Gaara took a step forward and grasped his brother's wrist. "I won't let you say that. You wouldn't let me say it when I was struggling to recover, and I won't let you say it now." He squeezed the wrist he held. "I see you: how strong you are, and how much you care." A small smile bent the corner of his mouth. "You ate Temari's and my horrid cooking like it tasted good and didn't even let on how bad it was."

Kankuro grinned. "Well . . ." He put one hand over his stomach. "I have a bad heartburn now."

"See?" Gaara released his arm. "You're a great brother. Neither Temari nor I could ask for more."

Kankuro blushed and nodded, but Gaara could tell he wasn't at peace with himself. His _nii-san_ had worked hard to take care of him; from now on Gaara would do the same. It was his turn to protect Kankuro — especially since Suna was apparently going to war.

* * *

_A/N: The stage is now set . . ._

_Sorry for the long pause between "Requiem" and this one. Thanks to Darkhelmetj for beta reading, and thank you to those who have been reading and reviewing my various Sandsib stories, as well as to anyone who reads and reviews this story._


	2. The Blood of the Dead

**Chapter Two: The Blood of the Dead**

War.

_Senso._

Fighting, _tatakai_, battles, skirmishes, conflicts. Gaara could name hundreds of terms to call what would happen when the Aida Clan attacked Suna, but they all led to the same resulting words: dying, wounded, casualties, fatalities, death. _Shi._

Gaara sat at his office desk, which was cleared of the day's work, with his hands wrapped around a tea cup. He watched the leaf floating on the tea's surface sink to the cup's bottom, but he didn't need bad omens to tell him Suna was in trouble. Three days had passed since Security Chief Taro's warning; nine evacuation drills had been practiced with the civilians. Every team leader from chuunin to ANBU was running his or her team through scenarios. Meanwhile, several miles away, according to surveillance reports, the Aida were still performing funeral rites in which they drank the blood and ate the flesh of their dead warriors to supposedly gain power.

"And I have a decision to make," Gaara whispered aloud, uncaring if he had an audience or not — spy or otherwise. He sipped his tea and then returned the cup to his immaculate desk. Always neat. Always organized. He consistently finished his paperwork on time because he liked things orderly and efficient. Under his control.

A knock sounded at the door, and Gaara jumped at the unexpected noise. He sighed and rubbed his temples; he really needed to meditate. He was the Kazekage, and now of all times he had to exhibit nothing but his trademark stoicism. This was hardly the time to be suffering from anxiety.

"Gaara?" called a voice through the door.

Recognizing Kankuro's voice, Gaara felt mildly relieved. His older brother had a calming effect on him. He wasn't sure when this had started happening or why, but he was grateful for it. "Come in."

Kankuro swung open the door, entered, and then flung it shut behind him. His black Bunraku uniform was dusty, and sweat lines ran through his face paint. Jerking off his hood, he dabbed it against his brow. "Man, what a bitch this is! But I have my team ready." He plopped in the chair across from his brother. "I have myself ready."

Gaara frowned, worry flashing through him. He grasped his tea cup by the rim and absently turned it in circles. "If you exhaust yourself before we're attacked, you won't be any good on the battlefield." He paused, recognizing the way his words always sounded impersonal. The words of a Kazekage. He shook his head. "I mean, I'm concerned you'll be wounded because you overworked yourself."

"I know what you meant." Kankuro smiled — his usual punk smirk, the mask of the puppeteer. "I'm fine, man. I've got the fourth puppet — the bobcat you gave me — solidly under my control. I'll go to bed early tonight, get some extra sleep, and be good to go."

Gaara felt a rush of adrenaline, of anger, of frustration. A flush burned across his face, and then something in him snapped. "Damn it!" He jerked to his feet, causing his chair to fly backward, and punched the desk with his fist. "Don't give me that nonchalant act. Our spies could be wrong. Our estimates could be wrong. They could attack in the middle of the night, and as a result of running yourself into the ground, you could die!"

Kankuro stared up at him, his eyes unnaturally wide. Silence hung in the room for several moments as the older boy tried to speak but failed to get out any words.

A blush bloomed across Gaara's face as he internally recoiled from his outburst. He didn't often lose his temper, and Kankuro's presence usually calmed him these days. But in that moment's frustration, his worst fear had seeped out: now that he finally had his family's love — his brother's love — he was afraid Kankuro would die.

"Gaara," Kankuro finally whispered. He stood, walked around the desk, and unabashedly pulled his brother into his arms. "I'm not gonna die. I'm gonna protect you."

Gaara leaned his head on Kankuro's chest, allowing his brother to hug him tightly, and wrapped his arms around his waist. He could hear his heart beating, a smooth if slightly accelerated tempo. "It is I who will be protecting the village. _I_ will protect _you_."

"It works both ways."

Gaara closed his eyes, but his mind immediately supplied him with the images described in the surveillance reports: the Aida circling a funeral pyre, with non-family members beating drums in a slow rhythm and family members raising animal skulls-turned cups to the sky, toasting their ancestors with the blood of their dead. "_Nii-san,_these people aren't shinobi. They're something else entirely." He pulled back. "And I . . . even though I am a shinobi and the Kazekage, I don't find myself wanting this war."

"Is there some reason why you should?" Kankuro released him. "Shinobi were created to spy, to gather information, and to carry out assassinations. No one ever asked us to march like an army." He shrugged one shoulder. "That's what the samurai of ancient times did. But the samurai are gone now, for the most part, and even the shinobi haven't carried out secret wars for years."

"I know," Gaara sighed.

"Then why would you want a war?" Kankuro asked. "Although missions make a village economically stronger, war weakens the population and interrupts the missions. Temari isn't the only one who sees no profit in war. Granted, she considers all the lives lost — civilian or otherwise. But even from a practical standpoint, I can say Suna has nothing to gain from this. If it made you excited or happy, that would be wrong."

Gaara couldn't argue with that. "You're right, but we can't avoid this war. And now I have to decide if we should launch an offensive and ambush them. Taro is arguing against it for diplomatic reasons, saying the other nations will claim we started the war with insufficient provocation. But given how the clan outnumbers us . . ."

"What does the rest of the council say?"

Letting his gaze slide away, Gaara watched the dim sunlight fading from the corner. Night would fall soon. "They're divided. Baki supports me."

"But you sent to Konoha for reinforcements, didn't you?"

"Yes." Gaara met his brother's gaze again. "Especially for medical support. Our hawk returned this morning with the message that two teams have been dispatched. Three med nin are among them."

Kankuro squeezed his brother's shoulders. "Then you've done all you can do for today. You can't do anything more to sway the council until tomorrow's meeting, so let's bathe and then get some rest."

Gaara frowned, not cherishing the thought of trying to sleep alone with all these thoughts and troubles on his mind. "I can try."

"There's no try to it." Kankuro looped one arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the door. "Your bed is king-sized. You can handle a second occupant, right? At least that way you'll know for sure I really am resting, huh?"

Gaara felt a smile ghost across his lips. "True. And if you try to sneak out and train, I'll bury you up to your neck in sand."

Kankuro laughed. "Yeah, man. I get it, I get it. I'll rest."

* * *

Ito Koji, chief of the Aida clan, marched past his assembled troops, surveying his warriors. To an outside observer, he didn't appear to be the leader: he was only five and half feet tall, and he had murky hazel eyes and patches of dirty blonde hair protruding from under his helmet. His warriors, by comparison, towered above him — both the men and women stood six or seven feet tall and sported the clan's signature sharp blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. Koji's bull skull helmet, however, marked him clearly as the chief, as did the necklace of human finger bones decorating his neck. His leather vest and pants revealed the cracks and cuts of a hundred battles, as did the chief's scruffy, wolf-fur cloak. Most importantly, though, was the set of the man's shoulders and chin: straight, proud, and used to carrying the burdens of a ruler.

The Aida's Oracle walked beside him, dressed from shoulders to knees in a flowing white robe that seemed made of two dozen scarves. She smiled at her chief. "You are pleased, Koji-sama. You believe victory is imminent."

Koji nodded once. In addition to the Oracle's gift of prophecy, she had keen insight into others. "We have trained for this day for over a decade. This week I will fulfill my father's vendetta and avenge his death at the hands of Sandaime Kazekage." He halted and faced the Oracle. "No, more than that. I will avenge all the wrongs visited upon our ancestors by Wind. Our ancestors' cry for blood will be sated, and all our souls will be at peace."

The Oracle grinned — a lopsided, knowing smile that seemed to make her green eyes sparkle. "Will they? Or is war so much a part of our heritage, our very beings, that no peace can ever be tolerated?"

"Oracle-sama . . ." Koji reached out, brushing his fingers against the crown braid decorating her auburn hair. "Sometimes you are too intuitive. But I would like to think that someday, I could be happy settling down and having several sons and daughters." He traced his fingers down her cheek.

She grabbed his hand, lowering it from her face. "You know it is forbidden."

"The fate of the Oracle," he sighed, turning away from her and resuming his march. "And what fate do you see for me?"

A long pause followed, and then she fell into step with him. "If you cave into your pride or anger, you will die. If you maintain your composure and focus on the preeminence of our ancestors, they will bless you so that you cannot fail."

Koji glanced over his warriors as he passed them: men and women, boys and girls, each decorated with colorful war paint and adorned with the skulls or bones of coyotes, wolves, or hyenas. "I will give all the glory to our ancestors. I will not stand on my own strength."

The Oracle bowed her head. "Then you will be granted the victory."

"Unless the Suna traitor double-crosses us." Koji glanced back at his childhood friend.

She shook her head, and the coin earrings dangling from her ears clicked softly. "His ambition is stronger than any shred of loyalty he might still hold. His hate runs deep. I have consulted our ancestors multiple times to be sure."

Koji smiled at her, grateful for her support and precognition. "In that case, yes — we will have the victory." He gazed toward the setting sun and smiled at the coming night. "Then let's commence the attack."

* * *

Gaara had already donned his scarlet, satin PJs when Kankuro knocked on his bedroom door. "Good," he muttered as he walked to the door. He'd been preoccupied with war stratagems during his bath and had begun worrying again — not that he'd ever admit it. Gaara needed company, distraction. He slid open his bedroom door and stepped aside, allowing his brother inside.

"I'm back," Kankuro announced unnecessarily. Now that he'd bathed, he was dressed in the black and gold dragon-printed yukata Temari had given him for his birthday. He grinned at his brother and shook his head. "Red, satin PJs. I can't believe the maids were forward enough to buy you that."

"I assume it was one of the maids," Gaara replied. "I just found them on my bed one night. And I did need bedclothes."

Kankuro snorted. "I swear, the effect you have on women. I'm sure she picked it out to match your hair." He paused and stared at the massive bed with its crimson bedspread and linen sheets. "You do realize . . ." He paused and flinched. "If anyone ever catches us sharing a bed, they'll freak. They'll have all sorts of weird questions, and rumors will likely start, and —"

"Don't care." Gaara moved past his brother and climbed into the bed. "You're my brother, and we're only two years apart in age. And we're not even legally adults. Why would they assume something —" He stopped and blushed. He may have never dated anyone or grown up hanging around guy friends, but he did know a few things about sex. "We're siblings. Family can share beds."

Kankuro raised an eyebrow, but he still walked to the bed and climbed in. "Well, by my estimation, yeah." He lay on his back and smiled up at his brother. "That in and of itself isn't what —"

Gaara lay beside him and put his head on his shoulder, then encircled his waist with one arm.

Kankuro chuckled and wrapped his arm around Gaara's back before pulling up the covers. "This is the part they'd find weird."

"Don't care." Gaara closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. "No one else in the world has had to go fifteen years without sleep and then make up for the resulting fifteen years of missed nightmares all at once." A bizarre feeling washed over him, almost as though he were a confused six-year-old again. He felt grumpy. "Besides, you said you'd stay by me anytime I needed."

"I did. And I will." Kankuro hugged him tighter. "I don't go back on promises."

Gaara lay in silence with his brother for several minutes, just listening to the older boy breathe. He had a scent Gaara could still recognize even without Shukaku's superior sense of smell: a faint trace of sawdust during the day or some kind of wood spice after he bathed. It was Kankuro's Scent, and Gaara had come to associate it with comfort.

But Gaara's mind wouldn't be still this night, not even with his brother beside him. "_Nii-san, _do you think the loss of Shukaku will make a difference in this war?" His brother was the only one he would admit his fears to.

Kankuro faintly stirred. "Why would it make a difference?" His voice sounded thick, almost slurred. He must have been on the verge of sleep. "Hey, you trained with me, and you trained with Temari and Baki. We worked on your defense, your offense, and your speed. We had you rebuild your chakra relentlessly. You are still Sabaku no Gaara, the master of sand."

Gaara stared past his brother's chest to the ink painting hanging on the wall: a tsunami cresting, rearing up with all its strength as it headed for a shoreline. "I know. But I . . ." He trailed off, remembering the conversation he'd had with Ebizo a week after Chiyo had died:

"You must be a strong leader," the old man had said. "Now more than ever."

From his office chair, Gaara had stared up at Ebizo. Even from that angle, the man's bushy eyebrows had hidden his eyes. "I assume you're referring to the fact I'm no longer Shukaku's host."

The old man nodded. "The council will question your strength, but now is the time for you to believe in yourself the most. You are not weak, as much as others may accuse you of being so."

Gaara felt shocked by these words, although he kept his face impassive. Encouragement for the hated and feared jinchuuriki? Especially from a man who had retired and then turned his back on his village for years? "Is that so?"

Ebizo folded his hands behind his back. "Consider the past. Your past. When you relied on Shukaku's strength, it not only hurt you, but also the people close to you. The people you now love, I think. Living without Ichibi's strength will not make you weak. If you believe that, you're seriously mistaken."

Gaara leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's interesting that you say that."

"Is it?" Ebizo snorted. "Just because I'm old doesn't make me senile. No, I know the truth of it. The reason you were able to eventually gain control of Shukaku's chakra and harness it was because of the strength of your own chakra. However, until you decided to be a human — until you decided to look upon your fellow villagers with human eyes — you could only see through Shukaku's eyes. Therefore, his strength was greater than yours, and you could barely contain him. That made you a menace, something to be feared."

"And destroyed," Gaara added quietly.

"Humans can be cruel; you know this better than most." Ebizo dropped his arms and then placed his hands on Gaara's desk. "But the choice between cruelty and kindness is the point. When you began to look at the world with your own human eyes — when you decided to protect Suna — your power became greater than Shukaku's, and your chakra became greater as well. With the Ichibi gone, you might have to retrain the way you use your chakra, but you are not weak. The force of Shukaku's chakra upon yours, and your resistance to and control of him, made you and your chakra strong."

_The force of Shukaku's chakra upon you made you strong . . ._

Gaara blinked, pulling himself from his memory and glancing at his brother. Kankuro was watching him patiently. "Just like you, Ebizo told me I would be strong even without Shukaku. And even though I was frustrated and unstable at first, you, Temari, and Baki did stick with me. I realize I can fight again. Maybe I'm even a better rounded shinobi now. But this isn't a mission. It's a war, a direct attack against the village for the purposes of either conquering or destroying us. When the moment comes, I want to be able to protect —"

"You will," Kankuro interrupted calmly. "After all these years, don't let your confidence be shaken. You have always fought with everything you had, and it will be enough."

Gaara met his brother's gaze: the man behind the mask. No performance was being offered here. The kindness, the pride, and the assurance that shone in Kankuro's eyes were real. "_Nii-san . . ._"

But then a dark wave passed over that expression, furrowing Kankuro's brow and bending his mouth into a frown. "Just whatever you do . . . don't die. I can't watch that again. I can't go through that again."

Gaara started to speak, but no words emerged. Was this the epitome of love, then? This feeling that two people couldn't live without each other and that the death of one would leave a hole in the other than could not be filled? Because Gaara surely felt the world would seem bleak if Kankuro were not in it.

The concept was terrifying.

However, before Gaara could formulate a response, a knock sounded at the door. Kankuro nearly flew out of the bed, and Gaara simultaneously bolted upright — more from the shock of Kankuro's reaction than the sound itself.

Kankuro sat in the chair near Gaara's bed and smoothed down his yukata. Gaara aimed a concerned look his way, wondering just exactly what his brother was so afraid people would think of them, then climbed out of bed.

"Who is it?" he asked as he approached the door.

"Baki." The man sounded dire.

Gaara's pulse began to race, and he jerked the door open. "What is it?"

Baki stared at him, his expression grim. "Our northern outlook post has been attacked. It's the Aida clan."

Kankuro cursed. "We should have ambushed them!"

Gaara agreed, but there was no time for regrets. He clenched his fists. "Fine. The war has begun."

* * *

_A/N: Edit, July 2011: Obviously, this story was written long before the revelations that recently took place in manga chs. 546-548, and the fans back in 2008 had debated a great deal about the impact of Shukaku's loss on Gaara's abilities. All Kishi said at the time was that Gaara would still be able to control sand (that I was aware of, at least). I suppose this story is AU now, so please accept it as such._

_Original Note: My deepest apologies for how long it took me to produce chapter 2. This story got stuck inside me and didn't want to come out. Fortunately, my muse has revived, and barring the sudden avalanche of a one-shot, I'll try to direct all my energy to this story until it's complete. I would, however, like to add to "The Day Gaara Died" as well._

_Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story and all of you who put a watch on it. This chapter was kinda plot-heavy, but brotherly love is on its way._

_Also, I purposely structured Ebizo's words about strength and the bijuu on_ Naruto_ ch. 299, which is Yamato's speech to Naruto on the same exact subject._

_Lastly, for those of you who aren't aware, the age of majority in Japan is 20, as is the suffrage age and the driving age. So Kankuro is legally still a minor. Please don't be confused by Gaara's words in the final scene._


	3. The Wrath of Ancestors

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing!_

_Reminders: "nii-sama" roughly means "honored older brother" and "ototo" means "younger brother."_

_BTW, a man addressing another man with the –chan honorific is a massive insult, basically like calling him a sissy. Naruto does this to Sasuke in their hospital roof fight if you watch the subs._

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Wrath of the Ancestors**

Gaara stood in his bedroom doorway, staring at the grim face of his ex-sensei. "Fine," he said, immediately understanding the implication of the Aida Clan's attack on Suna's northern outpost. "The war has begun."

Baki nodded. "Indeed. Our reports indicate the outpost was decimated and few survived. I've asked Taro-san to meet us here so we won't waste time. He should be here any moment."

"Very well." Gaara pinched his lips together, disturbed by the turn of events. He knew he needed sleep, but more importantly, _Kankuro_ needed rest. He glanced to his brother, who sat in his bedside chair, and tried to assess his exhaustion level. Kankuro looked awake, but Gaara knew from personal experience that chakra could be used to feign alertness.

As though sensing Gaara's worry, Kankuro stood, pulling his black yukata tighter around himself. "We have to act immediately. Depending on whether they're charging us, they could arrive within twenty minutes. We —"

"I've sent out the alert," Baki interrupted. "The civilians are already moving to their assigned locations, and the councilmen are taking their posts." He turned to Gaara. "Kazekage-sama . . ."

Gaara nodded. "We'll need to assemble our teams and deploy them immediately, as Kankuro said." He glanced down the hallway, wondering where his Security Chief was. "As soon as Taro arrives and I hear his assessment of the situation, I'd like to discuss an addition to our original plans." He internally cringed at the thought of Taro's hawkish face and ready sneer, and he found himself wishing he could exclude the disdainful man from their meeting.

"Initial reports show three smaller forces moving toward us while the main force waits at the border," Baki said, "but —"

Rounding the corner in a run, Taro dashed down the hallway and halted near Baki. Although his head was still wrapped in a turban, he was dressed in combat gear, with an oversized Suna symbol displayed on his vest. He also carried his preferred weapon, a glaive. "My apologies, but I had to verify our information. Our spies and the outpost survivors think the Aida may be trying to flank us. Two forces are converging from the sides, and the main force has begun to march forward, heading directly toward Suna."

Baki frowned, his jaw clenching momentarily. "But given the way we've built our village walls and situated our position in the valley, what do they plan to accomplish? Unless they mean to breach the walls."

Gaara pondered the information, which didn't make sense to him, given the Aida's apparent penchant for destruction. He had assumed they would just march as a single attack force, rank-by-rank, in a drove. "The walls will hold against most intruders, barring aerial attack. Unless there is a sign that the Aida Clan wields a power that could breach them, the village proper is our least concern for the moment."

"I agree," Taro said in a cool tone that seemed to say _Isn't that obvious?_ "For now, I believe we should focus on routing the main force."

Gaara narrowed his gaze at the older man; despite their age difference, he was still the Kazekage. "Indeed. We're at a tactical advantage if they _do_ attempt to breach the walls."

Kankuro joined them in the doorway. "Then we should be able to assign a small number of teams to cover the village and make taking down the main force our goal."

"Definitely." Gaara trained his gaze on Baki. "But that brings me to the change to our original strategy that I'd like to propose." He paused, then pushed forward with the thought that wouldn't leave him alone. "Given the state of our defenses, would the village be at high risk if I were to lead the main counter-assault instead of you?" He felt he had to suggest the idea; it was his duty to defend the village, after all. In this case, defending it seemed to mean fighting in the desert.

Baki frowned again. "No, I see sense in your plan. I can stay here instead in case they breach the village. If I stay, though, you should consider assigning Temari and her team to me."

"Being tribal in nature," Taro added, "the Aida would likely consider it a sign of weakness if you _didn't _lead the counter-attack, Gaara-ku, ah, -sama."

The words seemed innocent enough, excluding the butchering of the honorific, but Taro's typical sneer hovered around his lips. Gaara tried to determine if the man were baiting him. Something did seem off, but Taro hated him so deeply, Gaara couldn't tell if anything more was at work other than his usual abhorrence of the young Kazekage.

Beside him, Kankuro crossed his arms over his chest and stared down Taro, making a threat without even speaking. Gaara could feel his brother's chakra bristle. He hid a smile at Kankuro's protectiveness and admitted to himself that regardless of Taro's attitude, he couldn't argue with his assessment of the situation. "Yes. And we want to appear anything but weak." He nodded to Baki. "Temari and her team will stay with you, then. Given the long-range nature of her ninjutsu, she would be ideally placed on the village parapets." He inhaled slowly, deeply. "Send alerts to any remaining captains. I want at least twenty teams in position and ready to depart in ten minutes."

Kankuro reached out and grabbed his elbow. "If Temari is staying here now, then let me and my team stay near you."

Taro raised one finger. "Excellent idea! Kankuro-kun and his team can guard your left flank, Gaara-sama, and my team and I will guard your right."

Gaara nodded to his brother but wasn't sure how to respond to Taro. Although he had no logical reason, he felt uncomfortable with Taro's offer. Kankuro would say gut instinct was enough, but Gaara believed the feeling was caused by nothing more than his personal dislike for the Security Chief. He had to be objective about such things. "Agreed," he finally said to Taro, but he glared at the man to emphasize the point. "Please ensure that your men are properly prepared. Since we'll be leading the counter-assault, our force needs to be particularly strong."

Taro's posture stiffened, then he gave Gaara a jerky nod. "Yes, sir. We'll be awaiting you at the main entrance within five minutes." He pulled his fingers to his lips, invoking a sign, and teleported away.

Baki raised his fingers as well. "I'll make sure all remaining teams are deployed immediately." With the small pop of an air vacuum, he teleported away as well.

Kankuro turned to his brother with a look of concern. "I better get dressed and gather my team." He squeezed Gaara's shoulder. "I'll be watching your back, _ototo_."

Although he felt reassured by his brother's gesture, as Gaara gazed at Kankuro, he couldn't help feeling worried. "And I will watch yours, too," he promised with utter conviction. He started to turn away but stopped. The odd feeling in his gut wouldn't pass despite the lack of hard evidence. "I don't trust Taro," he said suddenly, bluntly. "I don't have any concrete reason why, but I don't. Keep an eye on him and his team."

"I've never liked him, either," Kankuro said, frowning. "I always just assumed it was because he was total asshole to you, but lately . . . yeah. I can't put my finger on it, but he seems . . . I dunno. Maybe not urgent enough?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I'll watch him." With that assurance, he ran, heading toward his own bedroom.

Gaara walked to his closet and tried to put his thoughts in order as he retrieved his battle garb. He had to set aside his unease and focus on the upcoming fight — his first true mission since losing Shukaku.

"For the village," he whispered to himself.

This was the definition of a Kazekage, and if he had to, he would uphold it at the cost of his life — again.

* * *

Koji motioned for his warriors to lie flat on the sand; the dune embankment stood high enough to hide them while he conferred with his brother and waited for the main flank to move into position.

Minutes later, his younger brother Raiden joined him behind the embankment. Raiden was everything Koji was not: tall, flaxen-blonde, and wide-shouldered. The hilt of his broadsword peeked from behind his wolf skull helmet and seemed to underscore his might. "_Nii-sama_," Raiden said, bowing. "I'm reporting as ordered."

"Thank you." Koji smiled up at his brother, feeling forever grateful that his ancestors had blessed him with a wise, intelligent _ototo_. "Conditions?"

"General Hiro is moving the main flank into position as we speak," Raiden replied, and as he spoke, the red war paint on his cheeks and jaw seemed to ripple like blood. "I have the West flank in position already."

"And our cousin?"

"Leiko has the East flank prepared as well. We can commence our attack on Suna proper as soon as General Hiro signals us."

Koji nodded. "All is proceeding as our Oracle foresaw. Tonight our father shall be avenged."

Raiden grinned like a wolf baring its fangs. "More than that, tonight we will take back our land."

"Much blood has been spilled for this endeavor," Koji said, glancing at his warriors. "We have bathed our ancestor's birthright red in our endless attempts to redeem our clan. I pray to our ancestors that this will be the final time." He turned his gaze upward and stared at the stars glimmering in the night sky, imagining each star represented a forefather or foremother who had fallen in battle. "It is time for us to resettle the clan and rebuild our nation."

Raiden snorted faintly. "True enough. But the excitement of battle never dies, _nii-sama_."

Koji sighed, shaking his head over his _ototo's_bloodlust. "It dies when you die."

"No fear of that." Raiden clapped him on the shoulder. "We are the Aida, and we fight as brothers. None can stand in our way."

_That's just what Father said to our uncle before Sandaime Kazekage killed him, _Koji thought, but he kept the sentiment to himself. "'Such as it is, so may it be,'" he said, quoting a long-held blessing.

"'Such as it is, so may it be,'" his brother replied, then teleported back to the West flank.

Koji punched himself in the chest once, right over his heart — a sign of dignity, a sign of courage, a sign of determination. "I will focus on the preeminence of my ancestors, and they will bless us so that we cannot fail," he reminded himself.

A single, warbling wolf's cry pierced the air: General Hiro's signal that he and his warriors were in place.

"For my father," Koji whispered, and took point, leading his warriors into battle.

* * *

To the casual observer, the desert seemed peaceful at night: sloping dunes, whispering wind, and remote mountains. The sky arched overhead, showing its elegance with glimmering stars and a full moon. No life seemed to disturb the occasional scraggily bush or cactus; only distant coyote howls hinted at activity.

Gaara was not fooled. Desert animals were nocturnal. All around him, in places unseen, jackrabbits ran from coyotes, snakes fought scorpions, and hyenas circled corpses. Likewise, he and the two teams accompanying him ran silently on the sand, leading the counter-assault strike against an enemy yet undetected. To Gaara's left ran Kankuro, who led a genin team; to his right was Taro with his chuunin team. Behind them, shaped in a diamond formation, were the second-, third-, and four-wave teams.

"I see movement ahead," Kankuro said, his voice unusually grim.

"Confirmed," Gaara replied, detecting shadowy movements across the farthest dunes. The Aida Clan was charging.

"Since they think like an army, they've chosen a full moon to suit their fighting style," Kankuro observed. "Then again, since we're meeting them in force, it aids us as well."

"Perhaps," Taro replied. "But let's not forget their sheer size. We're severely outnumbered, and underestimating their strength will get us killed."

Gaara narrowed his eyes as the figures ahead grew closer. "No one will be underestimating anyone. But numbers do not necessarily denote victory. My father's attempted Konoha invasion should have taught us that." He glanced toward Taro, hoping his words would silence the man's doomsday attitude, but then he was struck by the realization that his words, if true, meant his villagers looked to him for strength against overwhelming odds. Gaara returned his attention to the amassing Aida forces.

"They're going to flank us." Kankuro's dark tone indicated irritation more than surprise.

Watching two Aida units split from the main force, Gaara frowned. The army was now close enough for him to see the leader: a short man wearing a bull skull helmet and a fur cloak, he stood at the rise of a dune and surveyed the desert. The leader flicked his hand to his right, and the corresponding unit charged toward Kankuro and his team. Then the leader flicked his hand to his left, and the remaining unit rushed toward Taro and his team.

Gaara drew to a halt as Kankuro and Taro did. A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a wolf skull helmet faced Kankuro.

"You of Suna!" the man called out, his bass voice rumbling in his chest. "I, Ito Raiden, will be your opponent."

Kankuro summoned his puppets as Raiden's team engaged his own. Gaara had little time to react, however, because of the commotion to his right. A large-boned woman, who was nearly seven feet tall, stared down Taro.

The woman smirked at the Security Chief. "You of Suna! I, Ito Leiko, will be your opponent." She and her team encircled Taro and his men.

Again, Gaara had no chance to react. The main force bore down upon him, and he faced the Aida leader who stopped before him. Although short compared to the warriors around him, this man drew an imposing figure. His leather armor showed the scuffs and scrapes of many battles, and Gaara assumed the necklace of human finger bones hanging around his neck indicated his numerous successful campaigns.

"Kazekage-dono!" the man called out in a smooth, baritone voice. "I am Ito Koji, chief of the Aida. I will be your opponent." Koji drew his katana and gripped the hilt with both hands; the blade glowed blue with chakra.

Gaara felt adrenaline burn through his veins as he sensed Koji's immense chakra, but he allowed no emotion to mar his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, invoking his sand and wrapping it like a writhing snake around his body. However, he felt the twinge of an anger he had repressed since he was thirteen and first fought Shukaku's impulses. It was rage — rage that the Aida had begun this war and endangered his people. "What right do you possess to attack my village?"

Gaara expected a brash answer: the hubris of a warrior, the overconfidence of the bold, perhaps even the smirk of a madman. Instead Koji met his gaze with somber gravity.

"By the right of my ancestors," Koji replied, his demeanor grim but calm. "We share a common lineage, Kazekage-dono, but the founders of Wind disparaged our warrior's spirit and exiled us. My ancestors still cry out for rectification." He leveled his sword, anger leaking onto his face. "Tell me, ex-host of Shukaku, who will our ancestors smile upon tonight?" He drew back his arms and sliced downward, releasing a rush of chakra-infused wind. "_Kaze ken!_

From countless months of retraining, Gaara instinctively erected his sand shield before him; the wind blade struck the barrier, sending sand grains flying. Like when Shukaku had automatically protected him, Gaara was left unscathed, but internally he felt unsettled by Koji's remarks. Upon his now entirely human strength rested the lives of all the people in Suna. He glanced toward Kankuro and realized, more specifically, that his brother's life was endangered. His _nii-san_, who had sacrificed countless hours of rest preparing Gaara for a moment like this, now faced an opponent that might kill him simply because of a sleep deficiency.

Gaara's thoughts ran to their obvious conclusion — a corpse, a funeral, a life without the brother who had reached out to him in love — and his stomach seemed to crystallize into an icy lump. He glared at Koji and finally replied in a deathly quiet voice. "You're a fool. Your entire clan fights for your ancestors, your family, yet you fight a meaningless war that only brings death to those you claim to honor." Gaara reached out with both hands, crossing his arms before his body and aiming two arm-like projections of sand at Koji.

Koji jumped backward, slicing through the sand with blinding flashes of chakra. "The line between our ancestors and ourselves must remain unbroken," he replied, somber again, "or our ancestors will not find peace in the afterlife." He released one hand from his katana and held two fingers before his lips. "Besides, I must defend my father's honor." His impassive expression slipped again, revealing a buried rage. "I must avenge his death at the hands of Sondaime Kazekage!" He arced his katana upward, then diagonally sliced the air before him. "_Chi no ken._" Multiple rounded, red charka blades, like discs of blood, rained upon Gaara's sand shield, cutting through it.

Gaara hesitated for a sheer second, his mind having to invoke a defense that had once been automatic, then he jerked up a second sand shield. The movement lacked its normal grace, and one chakra blade sliced through, cutting his sand armor and gashing his cheek. Gaara heard his blood splatter onto the desert floor and knew he'd second-guessed himself. He took a deep, steadying breath, reminding himself to maintain his previous level of confidence — before he really did get his shinobi killed.

"Revenge is hollow, Koji-dono," he replied as he pulled his sand closer, condensing his chakra and preparing to attack. For an odd moment, he felt empathy for Koji's pain, but it couldn't override his outrage over the war. "Your actions now cannot change the past." He frowned. "It won't remove the hurt."

Koji leveled his sword again. "I know I cannot undo the strands of time. But you fail to understand and accept the duty you must bear toward your ancestors. Would you not avenge your family members' deaths?" His katana blade flickered and grew into a massive blue flame. "My father . . ." His voice grew rough. "He sought an honorable path when he attempted to restore our lost lands, but his death was not dignified. His spirit will not rest if I do not avenge him!" He drew both arms over his head and swung down, unleashing an enormous chakra strike. "_Kaze ken._"

The sudden gale blew Gaara's bangs back from his forehead, but the answering rage surging within him led him to counterattack instinctively. The sand exploded from his gourd, sharpening into a spear-like point that split through Koji's attack. "No family member is expendable!" he yelled in return, his usual calm demeanor momentarily shattered. He calmed himself immediately. "But to so carelessly put the lives of other precious people in danger over a memory . . ." Gaara paused, stabbed through the heart as he thought of Kankuro, Temari, and the Suna shinobi teams rushing after him and his Akatsuki abductors, risking their lives in an uncertain situation — a situation that could have left Suna open to further attack. He shook his head, realizing the answer was complicated; however, he was also unwilling to accept Koji's viewpoint as justified. "Your father is dead," he finally continued, guiding his sand into a ring encircling Koji. "Even if you cared about him, don't the lives of the rest of your family matter more to you now?" He glanced at Kankuro again, then turned back to Koji almost as though he needed to hear the answer.

Seeming unbothered by the deadly sand enclosing him, Koji grew still. "My brother and cousin mean the world to me, Kazekage-dono." He gave Gaara a small, sad smile. "Your viewpoint, although logical and of merit, is too simplistic. But yes, you are right on that one count — my living family members, although ready to die for our ancestors' honor, are precious to me. That's why I sought out and recruited a traitor among you."

Gaara felt the blood drain from his face. _A traitor . . ._

"My brother and cousin will live," Koji continued, "but you and your family shall not." He swung his sword through the air in a graceful series of slashes that dispersed the sand, then glanced toward Taro.

For a single breath, time seemed to stop as Gaara saw Taro meet Koji's gaze. Then Koji sliced his blade diagonally once more, cutting through the air before him. "_Chi no ken._" A wave of blood-red blades rushed toward Gaara.

Gaara growled, admonishing himself. He knew — just knew — after Taro's spying hawks and disdainful attitude, that something was amiss. Utterly enraged by both the betrayal and his own naïveté, he jerked up both hands, hurling a blast of sand through Koji's attack and then shooting the sand toward the Aida chief.

Koji sliced through the sand, then yelled out. "Raiden! Leiko! Charge!"

Gaara glanced toward Kankuro, meaning to warn him, but saw Raiden disengage as his team ran past Kankuro's and headed toward the Suna forces behind them. Leiko and her team ran past as well, and before Gaara could react, Taro had already descended upon Kankuro.

"Now, Kazekage-dono," Koji said, his tone grave once more. "Don't be so insulting as to look away from your opponent."

Gaara glanced back in time to see Koji raise his blade.

* * *

Kankuro glared with disgust at the elder man who now faced him. His shock over Raiden's sudden departure had been amplified when Taro charged him, but the surprise had been momentary. It all made sense to Kankuro: the way Taro had spied on Gaara's initial retraining, the manner in which the northern outpost had been so easily ambushed earlier that night, and even the fact that Taro was the lone member of his team to survive the assault by Leiko and her unit.

"Traitor," Kankuro growled, his gaze focusing momentarily on the oversized Suna symbol decorating Taro's vest. In the darkness, the Taro's grey eyes looked black, and the age lines that furrowed his brow cast a demonic look to his face.

Taro merely smiled and twirled his glaive before him. "Well, Kankuro-_chan_," he said, emphasizing the insulting honorific, "it looks like it falls to me to kill you. Or, rather, I asked for the job of eliminating you, even though my greatest desire is to kill your precious brother."

Kankuro ignored the personal insult but snarled at the threat against Gaara. As much as he wanted to protect his brother, however, he had a team to protect first. He could hear the genin panting breathlessly behind him and knew they were all injured. Working the fingers of his left hand, he walked Sanshouo to them. "Get inside," he ordered them.

The genin were too wounded to bother arguing, and once they were stowed safely inside of the puppet, Kankuro trained his attention to Taro. "You piece of shit," he spat, always willing to give as good as he got. "I thought you'd been spying on Gaara while we were training a few months ago. It figures you'd turn out to be a traitor. But you're not gonna get past me, let alone hurt Gaara." He eyed Taro's glaive with disdain. "Not that you could touch him with that thing." He snorted. "That's an odd choice of a weapon for someone who claims to be a man." Internally, he cringed, hoping his sister didn't learn of his pretended sexism. Even though she knew him better than that, she'd still whack him in the head with her fan.

Taro tightened his grip on his glaive. "Men used to regularly fight with naginata; its recent designation as a woman's weapon is meaningless." Despite these bold words, the man seemed defensive. "My naginata has served me well all my life, and you will die by it." He leveled it in front of him, then jerked it overhead and slashed downward. "_Kaze shi no naginata._"

Kankuro cursed and dodged the wind strike; simultaneously, he flicked his wrists and sent Karasu and his new bobcat puppet, Tama Shishi, after Taro. Despite his efforts, Taro's attack grazed his side, opening a cut on his right arm. "And I always thought you were so damn straight-laced over our village's _culture_. I guess you're as good of a performer as I am, though."

Taro growled, taking the bait again. "I care more about it than anyone!" He unleashed a second blast from his glaive. "That's why I can't abide the fact the council permitted that damn monster to ascend to Kazekage, even if they meant to use his position to control him." He unleashed a third blast with little pause. "Why him? Yondaime's son or not, he has never been anything but a detriment to our village."

Kankuro managed to dodge the second blast, but the third one caught him in the left shoulder. The wound dug deep, leaving a bleeding gash on his collarbone. Kankuro hissed in pain and dropped to one knee, but he drove Karasu and Tama Shishi after Taro again, forcing him backwards. "Gaara has done more good for this village than you ever could." He managed to stand again. "He's the reason your sorry ass survived that Akatsuki attack."

Taro knocked back Tama Shishi with the blade end of his naginata, then slammed the blunt end into Karasu, adding a chakra discharge that threw the puppet backward. "Akatsuki? We would have never been attacked by those outcasts if your freakish brother hadn't been in the village."

Realizing Taro was distracted by his rage, Kankuro began moving Kuroari into place behind the Security Chief, waiting for an opening to drive the man into the puppet's chest.

Taro jabbed outward with his blade again. "No. As the elder brother of Sandaime Kazekage, I should have been granted the position of Godaime Kazekage. Your father's appointment to the position I understand; your brother's I never will. It's madness." He unleashed a fourth blast of deadly wind. "_Kaze shi no naginata._"

Kankuro dived into a roll, avoiding the attack, but blood still gushed from his shoulder wound. "Madness? If you want to look at it that way, my brother had the correct birthright for the position. But you . . ." He grimaced as he raised his injured arm to shift his puppets and sent Tama Shishi in a frontal attack, backed by the damaged Karasu. "You don't deserve the position. You've betrayed the village and endangered all our lives over a petty grievance with the council!" He jerked Karasu forward, rushing Taro and forcing him closer to Kuroari.

"Petty?" Taro knocked away the puppet with a slash from his blade; Karasu came apart at one of its natural joints. "Since you are the great-grandson of Niidaime Kazekage, I would have assumed you'd have more sense . . . and talent." He sneered and slashed at Tama Shishi, keeping the bobcat puppet at bay. "When Yondaime died, you, Temari, and I were technically the main contenders, given birthright. Your brother, being an insane, dangerous monster, should have never been considered, and you and your sister were still genin. I've been jonin since age 16, and I've served as both ANBU and a councilman. I was the logical choice."

Kankuro growled at the man's words, but concentrated on Karasu and Tama Shishi, pushing Taro ever closer to the unnoticed Kuroari.

"The vendetta against Gaara should have been upheld until he was killed," Taro continued as he slashed at the puppets. "I consider it the saddest fate that Chiyo-sama became so senile that she revived your brother once he was finally dead and out of our way." He leveled his naginata, gathering a swirl of blue chakra around the blade. "But Ito-dono will take care of that, and I will take care of you — and your sister if necessary."

Taro was finally in position, and Kankuro wasted no time. After opening Kuroari's chest, Kankuro grew deathly still, his voice a steel blade. "You're pathetic. I wonder if you cared for your brother, and if you'll understand why I'm going to rip you shreds. Gaara may have been a monster before, but he's not now. He's my _ototo_. And I would die, just like Chiyo-basama, to keep him — and Temari — safe." He drove both Tama Shishi and Karasu at Taro, knowing it was his only chance to trap the man in Kuroari.

"Damn it!" Taro glanced backward, apparently finally sensing the third puppet, then faced Kankuro again, unleashing a final blast from his naginata even as Tama Shishi hit him in the chest, knocking him into Kuroari. "You'll never be able to save Gaara from Ito-dono!"

Kankuro remained strangely calm, knowing he couldn't complete his attack and still dodge Taro's blast. Taro would break through Kuroari's chest with little effort. He had to do it now. "Then I just hope you die before I do." He jerked Kuroari's chest closed and moved Karasu's appendages in line. "_Kurohigi Kiki Ippatsu," _he said, driving multiple blades into Kuroari even as the naginata's blast hit him full in the chest. He flew backward, hitting the sand and spitting up blood.

Taro's dying screams filled the air, and all the puppets fell limp. Kankuro smiled with grim satisfaction, then glanced toward Gaara. "I wanted to protect you," he whispered. The world looked strangely blurred, but he could just make out the form of his brother engaged in combat. "I hope that was enough."

* * *

A strange sensation washed over Gaara as he fended off Koji's newest chakra blast, and he glanced sideways just in time to see Kankuro take Taro's attack in the chest. He stared at his injured brother, watching the blood blooming across his chest. From somewhere deep inside him, Gaara felt an overwhelming panic and horror erupt, searing its way through his gut and up his throat. He screamed so loudly his lungs felt like they'd burst. "No!" Without thinking, he teleported to his brother's side.

From the nearest Aida warriors came a wave of kunai, but Gaara reflexively called forth his _suna no tama_, enclosing Kankuro and himself in a sand sphere. Gaara knelt by his brother, wrapping an arm around his bloody shoulders and propping him up. "Kankuro!"

His brother collapsed against him, his head falling against his shoulder. "G-Gaara." His breathing was heavy and his eyes glazed. "Sorry . . . I . . ."

"Don't apologize," Gaara whispered, pulling up one knee to support his brother's back. "Just stay still." He reached up with two fingers and covered one eye. He focused his chakra into creating an eyeball of sand outside of the sphere. "Optic nerved connected," he confirmed to himself. "_Daisan no me._"

Kankuro watched him with a small smile. "And you were worried . . . about fighting."

Gaara could now see the Aida warriors surrounding his _suna no tama._"If I don't get you out of here alive, it will mean nothing."

"Yes . . . it will," Kankuro replied, reaching up with one shaking hand and touching his _ototo's_cheek. "You . . . are strong again."

Gaara grasped his hand and held it against his chest. "Stay still! And don't talk. You need to save your energy."

Kankuro's eyes looked even more glazed, but he still smiled. "I'm sorry . . . I couldn't be of . . . more help."

"Don't talk that way." Gaara was beginning to feel panicked, and it had nothing to do with the efforts of the warriors outside to break his shield. Their kunai and chakra-powered punches meant nothing to him at the moment. "Kankuro, you have to live. Do you hear me? I can't do this without you."

Kankuro blinked slowly, and Gaara realized tears had come to his brother's eyes. "Thank you, _ototo_." He inhaled sharply, then slumped.

Gaara screamed.


	4. Blood of My Blood

**Chapter Four: Blood of My Blood**

Koji of the Aida Clan frowned at the hardened sphere of sand. Suna's Godaime Kazekage was proving more resilient than Taro's reports had indicated. Perhaps the traitor had double-crossed him, but the Oracle had ensured him that Taro's information was true and his intentions straightforward. Taro's ambitions and hatred Koji could understand; the Kazekage's efforts to protect his clan he could both understand and respect. But this sudden show of strength was puzzling.

"Simple force will not be enough," Koji said, signaling for his men to stop attacking the sphere. He gazed at the sand eyeball that watched him. "He knows what we're doing anyway. We need to be quick and forceful."

At that moment, a scream erupted from within the sphere — a howl like an enraged but dying animal. Koji crouched and drew his katana; his warriors hopped backwards and took fighting stances.

The entire ground began to shake; the sand jumped and shifted like in an earthquake. A shiver passed through Koji as though a ghost had walked through his chest, leaving him cold. "A spirit moves," he whispered to his men.

The air vibrated with a dull roar, and through the sand sphere came a growl of a voice:

"_Ryusa bakuryu!_"

The sand beneath Koji's feet exploded like a geyser, hurling him and his men into the air. Koji twisted mid-air, trying to right himself, but an avalanche of sand crested high above him like a tsunami. As his warriors yelled in fear, Koji looked upon the wave with calm acceptance.

"For his brother," Koji said in realization. "He has called upon his ancestors for vengeance." He drew back his katana and called upon his own blood, upon all the spirits of his family that he believed dwelt within him. Blood to blood, flesh to flesh — the passing of chakra through generations of funeral rituals. He raised his blade above his head. "_Chi no ken!_" With those words, he slashed downwards, cutting through the sand with a blinding red chakra.

But the sand kept coming: a desert's worth of grains, a brother's grief, a monstrous force that could not be stopped. The sand tsunami crashed into Koji's body and began to bury him along with his warriors. He tried to draw breath, but the sand was so thick that no air reached his lungs. In his last seconds of consciousness, however, he heard the Godaime Kazekage's voice:

"_Sabaku taisou._"

Koji felt the crushing weight of the sand upon him, and the pain surpassed all he could have imagined. Then Ito Koji of the Aida clan went to meet his ancestors.

* * *

Gaara stood on a flat plane of sand, his brother lying behind him and puppets lying around him, and panted. All his enemies were buried beneath him, crushed to death by tons of compacted sand. He stared at the ground, his arms hanging limply before him as he hunched from exhaustion and tried to feel some satisfaction in their deaths. None came. Even if he killed all the people in the world, it would not bring his brother back to life.

His breath hitched, and he gasped, tears standing in his eyes. He had what he wanted: the power to defend his village. Yet it meant nothing because one of the two people he most wanted to protect was gone. He turned toward Kankuro and collapsed on his knees beside him.

"_Nii-san,_" he whispered, feeling far greater agony than he had the day Yashamaru had betrayed him. He tried to raise his hand to his chest, to cover his aching heart, but he'd drained himself so completely he lacked the energy. He hands and body shook with a pain that he couldn't begin to express.

For a fleeting moment he found that, very selfishly, he hoped he died of the chakra exhaustion. He didn't want to pass out to simply have to wake again to the knowledge his brother was dead. He didn't have the strength, now or ever, to even begin to accept it.

However, as he gazed at Kankuro, he realized suddenly that his brother's chest was moving. Gaara's eyes widened, and he thought for a moment he was hallucinating. He reached toward Kankuro, only to fall face first onto the ground beside him. Still, his hand found Kankuro's hand, and he squeezed it. Warm. It was warm. Gaara's fingers reached to the wrist and felt for a pulse, and beneath his fingertips, he felt a faint but steady beat. The pulse throbbed in his hand, and he gasped. With his other hand, Gaara tried to claw his way closer, but it was impossible. With all his soul, he reversed his decision, desperately hoping he'd survive the chakra drain. However, the world was beginning to look odd, as though the moonlight was being extinguished.

"No," Gaara rasped, squeezing Kankuro's hand again. "_Nii-san . . ._" He needed to help his brother. He needed to feel that warmth.

But the world spiraled away from him.

* * *

Temari sat in the chair usually reserved for Gaara and stared at the councilmen. With Baki's support, she'd managed to convince them to allow her to handle some of Gaara's paperwork while he recovered in the hospital. Given that he'd already been unconscious for three days, this had proven wise.

"Report, Rai-san" she ordered the newest Security Chief. A talented kunoichi, Rai had been an academy student with Temari, and Temari had vouched for her character in the hopes of lending some reliability to the position. She had no intention of supporting another traitor, unintentionally or otherwise.

"The Aida Clan has fully retreated," Rai replied. "With the loss of their leader, Ito Koji, along with half their forces, they have been severely weakened. Kazekage-sama's overwhelming attack against them demoralized their surviving warriors, and they show no signs of further aggression. I suspect we can expect a representative to arrive shortly requesting a treaty."

Baki nodded. "I concur. After witnessing Kazekage-sama's _ryusa bakuryu_ and the death of their chieftain, they withdrew in a disorderly panic. Hopefully they will rethink their aggression toward us."

Temari jotted down a few notes. "Good to hear." She looked to Baki. "What is our official fatality count?"

"Twenty-one," Baki replied. "Fewer than I expected, to be honest."

"And we may count ourselves fortunate that Kazekage-sama wasn't one of them," Rai added.

For once, all the councilmen agreed, which pleased Temari. Maybe the jerks were finally becoming convinced that Gaara was a genuine asset to the village. "Indeed," she said, deciding to prod them a bit more. "He did, after all, almost singlehandedly win the war for us."

A contrite silent fell upon the room, and Temari hid her smirk. Even if it took the rest of her life, she'd convince them that Gaara was the best Kazekage to ever rule. She'd make sure they made a nice statue of him and wrote a good history for him in the children's textbooks. Her brother had proven twice over that he deserved their respect, after all.

But more than that, Temari would see her will done because she loved her youngest brother. In fact, she couldn't imagine what she'd do if either of her brothers died. Temari silently thanked Kami that was not the case, then redirected her attention towards the meeting. She nodded at Rai to continue and readied herself to take more notes.

* * *

Gaara was first aware that he existed. The existence, however, was formless and black. This disturbed him, and he tried to push outward, to touch something with form or meaning. He then realized he was under layers of darkness.

_Who . . . am I? _he wondered with a moment's panic. He clawed upwards, trying to reach something . . . light? He needed to . . . to awaken. Yes, that was it. But where was he? And —

Gaara jerked awake, opening his eyes wide before the darkness could engulf him again. Consciousness, however, smacked him hard. The room around him was white and glowed brightly with dawn light. He knew immediately something was wrong, didn't want to remember what, then did: his brother might be dead.

A shooting pain struck his gut, and he gasped. "Kankuro!"

"_Ototo_," replied a hoarse voice.

Gaara snapped his head toward the voice, desperately hoping to confirm what he'd heard. He blinked several times, and his mind and eyes cleared further. Across from him in a hospital bed was Kankuro.

His brother, who was covered in bandages and bruises, smiled at him. "It's 'bout time you woke up," he rasped.

"Are you all right?" Gaara struggled to sit up, but he kept his gaze trained on his brother the entire time. The world swam slightly, and he took several long breaths to force the dizziness to pass.

"Yeah." Kankuro cleared his throat. "Apparently I was touch and go for awhile, but I'm just sore now." His voice was stronger this time.

Finally stable, Gaara tried to crawl off the bed but stopped when his knee collided with something hard. He winced and glared at the metal sidebar on his bed, irritated at the obstacle between himself and his brother. He forced his stiff body to obey him and lumbered over the rail, practically losing his hospital gown in the process.

Kankuro chuckled. "I knew you'd do that." He still sounded tired. "I told them to put us in a double room or they'd face your wrath."

"Good," Gaara said, not disputing the truth of the claim. He forced himself to stand straight and cringed as several muscles refused to move properly. "I'm stiff. How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

Gaara found he didn't care. Nothing in the world mattered except his brother was alive and talking to him. He stumbled between the two beds and crawled over the rail of Kankuro's bed.

Kankuro shifted sideways to make room as Gaara fought the sheets. When Gaara turned back toward him, he found that Kankuro had managed to lift one arm. For some reason he couldn't explain, this made Gaara feel teary. He lay down and rested his head on Kankuro's shoulder as his brother wrapped his arm around him.

"Someone's going to walk in on this," Kankuro said.

"Don't care," Gaara mumbled, tightly encircling his brother's waist with one arm yet careful to avoid the bandages on his chest. "Thought you'd died." He couldn't seem to talk louder than a whisper. "It was the worst moment of my life."

Kankuro hugged Gaara to him. "Now you know how I felt when I came up on the sight of Chiyo-basama reviving you. For a moment . . . time stopped for me."

Gaara shuddered. "Never. Again." He closed his eyes and inhaled Kankuro's scent. The bleach on the sheets had replaced the trace smell of sawdust often found in Kankuro's clothes. However, the inexplicable scent that Shukaku has always simply termed "male" was there — a faint scent, almost like a musk, which Shukaku had specifically tagged as "male, Kankuro" and Gaara associated not only with comfort but also with strength.

Gaara exhaled heavily and relaxed. "You smell like you." A tiny smile worked its way onto his lips.

Kankuro chuckled again. "I hope so. I'd hate to think I'd absorbed the smell of this hospital." A pause, and Gaara suspected his brother was remembering the way he had once commented on Kankuro's bedsheets smelling like him. "That _is_ a good thing, right?"

"Hn." Gaara resisted the urge to tease him otherwise.

"They tell me you buried half the Aida Clan's forces after I passed out," Kankuro said after a moment.

Gaara frowned. "Thought you'd died," he repeated.

His brother squeezed his shoulders again. "No, I mean you proved you're as strong as ever."

Kankuro was right, and yet, to Gaara, the realization was unimportant. "Doesn't matter if you're not here," he told him bluntly.

A long pause followed this proclamation, then Kankuro kissed his forehead. "I know what you mean."

Gaara opened his eyes but couldn't meet Kankuro's gaze. "You said you'd protect me."

Kankuro reached up and placed his other hand on the arm Gaara had wrapped around his waist. "Yes, I will."

"I'll protect you, too." Gaara closed his eyes again, relaxing further.

For a moment, Kankuro seemed to hold his breath. "As you wish . . . Kazekage-sama."

Gaara snorted and nudged him with his nose. "Don't you dare call me that."

His brother laughed, and the sound had never seemed more welcome.

"The blood that flows in your veins in the same that flows in mine," Gaara said, repeating words Kankuro had once said to him. "You'll always be under my protection, whether I'm Kazekage or not."

"Stop it," Kankuro whispered, "before you make me cry. Or I'll make _you_ buy _me_ a teddy bear. If you want things to go both ways, _ototo_, it'd better be everything."

This time, Gaara smiled. "All right, _nii-san._"

Kankuro hugged him closer again, and Gaara allowed himself to grow sleepy once more. Waking up would be no problem now that he knew his family was intact. Kankuro's body was warm, and with his head against his chest, Gaara could hear his brother's heartbeat.

_Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh,_ Gaara thought as he drifted to sleep. _I think I can somewhat understand the Aida Clan's passion. My siblings are precious to me . . ._

And Godaime Kazekage knew that things would, for once, be truly all right.

* * *

_A/N: Once again, I'm sorry it took me so long to post this story. I got stuck in the middle chapters because I wrote 12 action stories for Forgotten Realms before I ever got to Naruto and basically got sick of writing fight scenes. I just had to work up the energy to deal with more fight scenes . . . again. I think I'll stay away from action stories a bit longer until I recover._

_Anyway, thank you to Darkhelmetj for beta reading and for RPing half of chapter 3 with me so I could force myself through the fight scenes._

_Also, thank you to every one of you who left me reviews and encouragement or faved me. I really appreciate all the support. You guys have been great._

_OCs' attacks translated:_  
_Kaze ken — wind sword_  
_Chi no ken — sword of blood_  
_Kaze shi no naginata — naginata of deadly wind (literally "wind death")_


End file.
